


As Time Goes By

by ahbonjour



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Age Difference, Babies, Caesar is a huge asshole and never gets better, Caesar's Legion, F/M, Followers of the Apocalypse, Joshua is a huge asshole but gets better, M/M, Mental Instability, Multiple Personalities, NCR, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slavery, courier's silly name, lots of characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahbonjour/pseuds/ahbonjour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lunchbox jerked back, forcing Joshua away. "No, no, you stay over there." He drew his knees back to his chest, winding his arms behind his thighs, and stared into the fire. "I was a slave, Joshua. For eight years, when I was a child. Eight years of hell, and torture…it's where McGee came from, in that…fucking camp. McGee was a fighter, and Caesar loved that. He would come and watch the—the brutal fights. Between children. Children, Joshua." He finally looked back up at the older man, the burned man wrapped in bandages who'd been his mentor, who'd taught him scriptures and hope and forgiveness. "He'd watch with his friend, Malpais Legate." Joshua breathed in sharply at the mention of his old name. "The man who killed my family."</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Time Goes By

“For, behold, I have refined thee, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.”  
—1 Nephi 20:10

 

_2251_

The Malpais Legate, as Joshua was called then, shaded his eyes from the hot Nevada sun and watched, hungrily, as the small NCR contingent made its way into the gas station.

One of his prime legionnaires shifted behind him. “Sir, should we—”

Joshua held up his hand, relishing the way the man stopped, instantly, as though his hand was a gag. “Patience, Falling Eagle. They will be waiting for an attack now. We must wait, too, until they’re no longer guarding quite so well.” Joshua narrowed his eyes. “Remember, ye must continue in patience until ye are protected.”

“Ave,” Falling Eagle said demurely, stepping back.

The June sun beat down mercilessly on them and the Malpais Legate, then a young man, only nineteen years old but already cultivating bloodlust, growing a heart of hate and scorn. He spoke softly enough to his troops, the Blackfoots they’d taken over and taught four years ago, shown how to wage war and kill troopers, how to speak rudimentary Latin and how to determine rank, slave and rape and pillage. Above all, how to fall in line. That had been the hardest lesson, and the one that needed to be beaten back in the most frequently.

Sometimes the Blackfoots resented being given orders by a teenager, but if their leader, mighty Caesar, the one who’d taught them total war, told them to follow a man into battle, they would follow until the ends of the earth.

“I don’t want to wait,” Aelius grumbled, kicking the butt of his rifle against his foot. “I want to—”

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Joshua said curtly, cutting the legionnaire off. “It only matters what Caesar wants, and he wants us to be quiet, for now. Some missing troops here and there, the odd mark left on the mongrels’ bodies. We are here to install fear, not start war. Not yet. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Aelius murmured sheepishly.

Joshua looked at him a moment, considering saying something else, but instead nodded and settled in behind the overturned bus to wait.

Hours passed, the legionnaires watched as the sun made its full arc over the sky. They all had begun smelling like motor oil and sweat, a ripe smell that Joshua assured them would only make them more repugnant, and therefore more terrifying, to the NCR soldiers they were only moments away from attacking. The sun dipped below the horizon and Joshua watched, carefully, as the stars began dotting the skies. He made a motion with his finger and that’s all it took, his men were on their feet and loading their guns, watching the door, waiting for orders.

Distantly, a coyote howled.

_Lord, guide our steps._

Slowly, they walked to the door. Joshua thought about the layout of the station, then made a few quick gestures to the three other men. The only centurion with him, Black Hoof, took point, with Falling Eagle and Aelius flanking. Joshua took the rear, unsheathing his .45 and slamming in a new clip just as Black Hoof kicked the door in.

There were five of them, four soldiers and a woman, a Khan by the look of her. Two of the soldiers sat near the door, supposedly guarding it, and one lay in the back, napping. The fourth sat with the woman behind the counter, scrambling up to stand in front of her as she screamed. Black Hoof made quick work of the one in the back, and Falling Eagle and Aelius killed the ones flanking the door, quickly, practiced. Joshua strode around the counter and pistol-whipped the soldier struggling to get his gun out, sending him reeling to the ground. He flipped his gun over and grabbed the man’s head of full blond hair, pulling it back to look at the woman.

The other legionnaires stood quietly as Joshua asked, “Is this your wife?”

The man looked from the woman to Joshua, trying to see, measuring his words and finally stammering out, “N-no.”

Joshua smiled, a cruel smile. “Good. Then you won’t mind when I do this.” The woman reached for her mate as Joshua leveled the pistol to her forehead, executing her; she was dead before her limp hand hit the ground.

“ _No!_ ” the man screamed, pulling himself against Joshua’s hand. He was crying, weeping openly; it made Joshua’s lip curl. “ _Mona! No!_ ”

Joshua sighed and resheathed his weapon, instead flicking open a pocket knife and, in one fluid motion, slitting open his throat, painting the dirty mattress red. The NCR dog gurgled, twitched, still reached for his wife and for something else, something further as Joshua lowered him down, watching as he pulled himself onto Mona, holding her as the life fled his body. It was almost beautiful, in a way. But Joshua wasn’t prone to sentimentality.

It was quiet then. The air was thick with the smell of blood, a coppery smell, dense and rank and dangerous. A smell that wound its way to the back of your throat. Victory.

“Loot the place,” Joshua commanded, circling his finger in the air as the soldier finally twitched and lay silent. “The bodies, too; take ammo, weapons, any chems. Leave the armor, we have no need for it at the moment. Falling Eagle, do you—”

His words were cut short as a cry suddenly pierced the quiet, high pitched, afraid.

Joshua turned and finally, finally, he saw it. He saw why the contingent had stopped at a gas station so early, and for so long. He saw what the soldier had been reaching for.

A baby. Tucked in an ammo box with a blanket, shielded by his mother’s body still draped over him, still protecting him. His tiny hands reached up, crying for milk, warmth, love. They still had blood caked around the nails. He couldn’t have been more than a few hours old.

Slowly, Joshua stepped over the bodies of his parents and reached into the box, curling his hands around the naked baby, lifting him into his arms, cradling him in their crooks. He looked down and saw that the child couldn’t even open his eyes yet, like a baby bird. He ran his finger over the child’s face, marveling at how large he was compared to this thing. How much stronger he was.

How _easy_ it would be.

How easy it would be to dash him against the floor and toss him atop his parents, to leave yet another atrocity in the wake of the young Legion. Just another body, broken and spent, a reminder that no one is safe from Caesar’s wrath. It would be so easy. Like squashing a bug.

“Black Hoof, give me your cloak.”

“Sir—”

“ _Now._ ”

Joshua couldn’t take his eyes off the baby’s face as Black Hoof handed him the red fabric, watched as the little nose wrinkled, the eyes tried to prize themselves open. He nested the cloak in his other arm and, with practiced ease, wrapped the baby in it, tying the ends around his chest so he could be carried like the tribal mothers carried their children. The legionnaires said nothing, only watched in awe as their bloodthirsty leader treated the child with such care, followed when he walked out of the gas station. Marked the door with a bloody X.

*~*~*

“I sent you to kill NCR and you brought one back?”

Joshua sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. “He’s not NCR yet, Caesar. He’s barely a day old, he’s only just opened his eyes—”

“He’s as much of a child as you are,” Caesar spat, pacing across the floor of his large private tent, his heavy brow furrowed. His long, fur-trimmed cloak fluttered above the ground as he walked, his lean legs taut with muscle. “What was your plan, Malpais?”

Joshua watched his leader walk back and forth and felt his heart lurch with every step. “I had no plan.”

“Could you just not stand to kill a child? Was that it?”

“You know I have no qualms—”

“Things like this, Malpais…they make me wonder if you were the appropriate choice.” Caesar stopped pacing in front of Joshua, straightening his back, folding his large hands behind it. “Perhaps you _are_ too young. There are whispers in the camp, they talk about how they can’t believe I took a child for my partner.”

“With all respect, I am not a child—”

“You were when you were chosen!” Caesar stared at Joshua a moment more, then sighed heavily and sunk into the easy chair he used when he received guests (or watched executions). “Malpais Legate, when we met you were fourteen. You had just begun your mission work, we took you on because you knew the language better and you would be good for morale. All that youthful enthusiasm.” Caesar ran his hand over his head of brown hair, his frustration melting to annoyance and exhaustion. “You’ve been disappointing me lately. You’ve gone soft. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate you for all you’ve done, you and Bill, for staying by me when the others would not. You’re a good soldier, and a good friend. But maybe—”

“I’ll kill him.”

Caesar looked up, a bemused smile on his face. “What?”

Joshua was already untying the bundle from around his chest, wrapping the corners of it around his fist, testing the weight, seeing if the equilibrium would be right for him to whip it around his head like a sling and crash it to the floor. “I’ll kill him, I will. Whatever I need to do.”

“Malpais—”

“Do you want to call in more troops? Let them see?”

“No.” Joshua watched as Caesar stood and walked over, holding his hands out and snapping his fingers. Joshua hesitated for the barest second, then slowly lifted the bundle and placed it in Caesar’s hands, carefully. Caesar unwrapped the child, let Black Hoof’s cloak fall to the floor as he held him up, carefully studying the babe’s pale blue eyes, the wisps of blonde hair decorating his head. “Is he pure NCR?”

“No. His father was NCR, but I believe his mother was a Khan.”

“Interesting. Raider blood.” He lowered the child slightly, still staring. “He’s quiet.”

“Very well behaved. Only cried when he was hungry, never for no reason.”

“Hm.” After another long moment, Caesar handed the child back to Joshua. “Didn’t one of the slaves lose a child recently?”

Joshua nodded. “Livia.”

“Right. She’s should still be making milk; give him to her.” Caesar smirked. “Congratulations, Malpais Legate, you have convinced me to spare him.”

“Sir—”

“Of course, not all of the credit goes to you. Most of it comes from his obedient disposition, mixed blood, and Livia’s bad luck.” Caesar smiled and tapped Joshua’s temple with his index and middle finger. “Can’t have you getting a big head, now, can we?”

Joshua laughed. “No, sir.”

“No, sir, indeed.” Caesar tilted his head, folding his arms and pressing his index finger to his lips. “What have you been calling him?”

“Ezekiel.” He said the name without hesitation, as he’d said it all morning and all yesterday, but as soon as it slipped past his lips this time he regretted it. The name wasn’t Roman, it fought the naming conventions Caesar was trying so hard to instill. Would he approve? Joshua liked the name so much, he thought, it would be such a shame to see it changed to fit the aesthetic.

Much to his surprise, Caesar laughed. “Of course it is. Of course. Small Ezekiel. Good. He will be our first captured child.” He gently wiggled his finger in front of Ezekiel’s nose. “How’s that, little one? How do you like the sound of that?”

*~*~*

When Joshua walked into the female slaves’ quarters that night he was pleased at how instantly it fell quiet, this dirty tent filled with masses of unwashed. These women were the remains of the unmarried Blackfoot girls and the women of the tribes captured in the past five years, beaten and bruised and so subjugated it was as though they’d never lived another life, and if they did it only came to them in flashes, dreams. The ones left alive were so obedient and frightened they would have crawled through broken glass naked if it was Caesar’s will.

Joshua’s snakeskin boots tapped hard on the dirt floor as he crossed, causing some of the newer slaves to flinch with every footfall. Ezekiel lay tucked in his arm, awake but quiet, staring up at the dark haired man with blue eyes like pierced starlight. Joshua glanced down at him and frowned, simultaneously aware that this was the best possible outcome for him and disappointed that this would be the last he’d see of the boy for years. Some slaves dared to look at him, but most knew better than to try to see whatever the bundle was. They’d find out soon enough. They always did.

Finally, Joshua stopped in front of a black woman with short, kinky hair, perhaps thirty years old, in a red-marked smock and foot wraps, as all of the slaves were. Her dark eyes were cast down and smudged with dust stuck to old tears, giving her the look of a grieving raccoon. He turned one foot and touched the other to his heel, watching as her gaze traveled to where he’d stopped, lingering there, then flickered up, acknowledging without speaking that she was at his disposal. He stepped closer. “Livia.”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“I’ve brought you a gift.” She jerked back, very small, and looked up at him again, longer, lingering so he could see the confusion written on her lovely face. He nodded at her arms and she quickly extended them, holding as still as a statue as he carefully, so carefully, placed Ezekiel in them, tucking the blanket around him carefully. Somewhere another slave gasped, and another shifted to get a better look. Livia stared down at the child in wonder and Joshua said, “A replacement for your loss. We have been calling him Ezekiel; Caesar likes the name. He will be your ward from now on.”

Livia was speechless, staring down at the small face, raccoon eyes wide and flitting over Ezekiel’s face quickly, trying to see if he was real or not. Joshua could see her arms were trembling. Finally, she looked up at him, maintaining a gaze, unblinking. “I didn’t think my prayers for a chance at redemption for my body’s failings would be answered,” she whispered, and Joshua found himself unable to look away. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”

“You do not speak unless spoken to, slave,” Joshua murmured, but his heart wasn’t in it. Livia flinched and looked away as he added, “I will forgive your transgression this once, but do not expect such quick forgiveness next time.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Livia replied demurely, looking back down at the child in her arms, for all the world Madonna.

Joshua wanted to touch her, but restrained himself. “Take good care of him. You will be placed in lighter duties until he’s older. Your duty to the legion is fulfilled.” He nodded at her and turned on his heel, striding out of the tent quickly, not allowing himself to look at Ezekiel for fear he would do something he’d regret.

As soon as he left the women swarmed to Livia, inspecting the child even as she did the same. Ezekiel looked around curiously, pale blue eyes darting from person to person until finally settling on the woman holding him. He blinked up at her, and she blinked back.

The women were abuzz. “How old is he?”

“Look at how beautiful he is!”

“Ezekiel, what a strange name.”

“You’re so lucky, Livia.”

“I am,” Livia murmured, bowing to press a kiss to Ezekiel’s head. He could do nothing but squirm closer to her, finally back in a mother’s arms, unsure of what came next.


End file.
